priorities
by paradisdesbilles
Summary: It is one such night, the moon hanging high in the sky and the rum not helping in the least, that he frowns up at the ceiling of his cabin, ears perking up to make up the sound of footsteps coming from above.


Killian goes back to sleeping in the captain's quarters.

Most of his life he's lived alone, and most of his life he's lived on the Jolly Roger – it only makes sense to go back to it now that Emma is gone, to let its walls welcome him back into their familiar embrace. There is something comforting about the planks of dark wood and the rough cotton of his sheets, something Lady Lucas' lodgings could never provide. Killian feels all the better on his ship, lulled to sleep by the sea and alcohol, the creaking of wood and songs of seagulls.

Mice have claimed the ship as their own now that she is spending time moored to what passes as docks in Storybrooke. Killian hears them at night, the soft _tap-tap-tap_ of their little feet, the barely there munching of whatever food they still find in the Jolly's hull. He'll have to find a cat soon, if he doesn't want them to damage the ship too much – will have to pay a visit to David's former place of employment, for there is something sadly poetic about adopting a beast that is as lonely and abandoned as he feels.

It is one such night, the moon hanging high in the sky and the rum not helping in the least, that he frowns up at the ceiling of his cabin, ears perking up to make up the sound of footsteps coming from above.

The lad is good, barely louder than the mice themselves and, were it not for the fact that he is wide-awake, Killian wouldn't even have heard him. But aware he is, and so he forces himself out of bed and up the few steps separating him from the deck. The cold night breeze welcomes him outside, and with it the sight of the lad leaning with his arms folded on the railing, eyes lost into the horizon.

Killian makes his way towards him and mirrors Henry's position, the lad not even glancing his way as he comes to stand next to him. Instead he heaves a sigh, desperate enough to shatter the earth, and Killian knows it's one of those nights, when they can no longer leave their demons at bay, when the weight of her absence is too heavy to bear in silence.

"What are you doing on my ship?" he asks, still, giving the boy an out if he so wishes to take it, if he doesn't want to share his nightmares with the old pirate.

His lips curl into a tight smile, even if he won't look Killian's way. "Technically, it's _my_ ship."

That wrenches a chuckle from Killian's lips. The crew's morale can't be all that terrible tonight if the young master Swan makes jokes about the alternate universe that almost cost him his entire family. Even when said joke is at Killian's expense – somewhat, the fact that Henry was the one to best Blackbeard, and thus to gain the captainship of the Jolly, may as well be something Killian will never live down.

Henry's jab ends in silence, one they comfortably share as they watch the reflexion of stars into the ink black ocean. Despite the many hours spent in the lad's company, Killian often finds himself unable to know what to do, how to act around him. Comfort doesn't come easy to him, not even after the too many heartbreaks he went through, and he doesn't quite know the words to ease the boy's mind – false promises are not something Killian toys with, especially not when both the boy's heart and his are on the line. Hope is a powerful magic of its own, after all, to be used scarcely.

"It's been two weeks," Henry breathes after a while, to fill the heavy silence more than anything else.

They both know how long it has been, down to the second. Too long, if you ever ask Killian, way too long without her by his side, without her smiles and sarcasm and the way she rolls her eyes when he's playing the pirate bastard. Too long since Emma Swan ceased to be, replaced by her worst nightmare, by the very thing she fought so hard not to be. Bile rises in his throat at the mere thought of it, her yelps of pain as the shadows took her forever imprinted into his mind.

"I want to ask you something, actually," the lad adds after a while, when he notices Killian isn't going to reply. What is there to reply, anyway? She's been gone for two weeks now, and nothing is ever going to be the same. It's nothing but facts.

"I'm all ears."

The lad seems to hesitate, drumming against the railing with three fingers before he takes a deep breath. He has never looked more like his father than in this moment, the frightened lost boy who found shelter on this exact same ship all those centuries ago, and Killian's breath catches in his throat.

"When I find a way to go to Camelot, I want you to come with me."

It would be a lie than to say Killian hadn't seen it coming; too many hours spent in the library with the Lady Belle for it to be left unnoticed. He knew Emma's son would try as might as he could to go back to her, no matter the cost. It is, after all, what she would do for him, what she had done for him, and Killian didn't expect any less of the lad. They are true love, the absence of her must be even more painful to Henry than it is to him.

Still. "Why me of all people, if you don't mind me asking?"

Not that he would refuse. He had said once that he would follow her to the end of the world, and it's a promise Killian is still ready to make. But there is a difference between this and the boy asking for his help – the same way he had asked in the other universe where Killian was barely himself to begin with.

Henry looks at him at last, if only to arch an eyebrow, and now he looks so much like Emma that it is a painful thing to watch. "Seriously?" he asks, even if he doesn't expect an answer. And, indeed, he goes on before Killian even has time to think of what to say. "There is no one else… I mean, I know my grandparents love her, but they have my uncle too and – priorities, you know? Mom is my priority, and she's yours too. There is no one else I can ask."

Killian hadn't thought of it that way – if a rescue mission were to indeed happen, he has no doubt the royals would be the first in line to go – but he understands Henry's point of view. Understands it all too well, perhaps, for there is no one else, no one but the lad and him, he would trust with Emma's safety. They don't only share their sadness over her absence, but their love for her too, so deep and unconditional, unbreakable.

It hurts and touches him, that the lad would think so highly of dear old pirate him.

"And even if you refuse, I'll force you, because this is my ship so you follow the orders."

He is Emma's son through and through, it leaves no doubt. That, along with the stubborn tilt of his chin and the determination in his eyes, makes Killian chuckles once more, a little more joyfully this time, as he throws an arm around the lad's shoulders, pulls him to his chest into a bear hug.

"Lead the way, captain," he replies with a grin that Henry can only mirror.

Hope is a terrible thing, but it will fuel their quest until they are reunited with the woman who captains both their hearts.


End file.
